Minotaur
by Cardboard Edward
Summary: A take on the anarchist before and after she met our heroes; an exploration of her relationships, hopes, and fears, peppered with plenty of revolution.
1. Chapter 1

Why hello there.

It is time to unveil my newest Leviathan piece!

As you might of figured out by now, I like writing about 'neglected' characters in this fandom. I love Lilit. She's just so classy, and a total badass, at the _same time_. She does not get the credit she deserves- she's so awesome and I wanted to write something representing that properly.

This will be a five chapter fanfiction (I think) focusing on different sections of her life. Chapter one is pre-Behemoth, two, three, and four are during, and five will be post. I'll be uploading those... sometime.

This didn't require a third as much research as _Prague_ did (which is really good, because WHY IS IT SO HARD TO FIND OTTOMAN OUTFITS CIRCA 1914. GUH.) and I mostly got to cruise along what Scott already gave us, adding detail and backstories to lines.

To all of you who read or reviewed _Prague_: I love you, and you are way too nice.

Also, I emailed the mods to add a Lilit character tag weeks ago and they still haven't done it. GET ON IT, MODS.

* * *

><p>It was a day of learning in her mother's bedroom today, Lilit decided. It didn't seem to be like her normal lessons, manners and grammar and the like. She hoped it'd be more along the lines of the slow afternoons her father would pick her up and plop her in front of a walker, and let her stomp around the training grounds as his students gaped at the ten year old walking clumsy circles around them.<p>

Unfortunately, this did not seem to be the case. Her mother was standing in the center of the room, and her mother's maid (the last one, Lilit thought glumly) shaking what looked like a torture device out of a box.

It took Lilit a second to realize what it actually was.

"You can't be…" she trailed off, gaping in horror at the corset. Her own mother had been the one to insist that Lilit, now of corset-wearing age, would never, ever, wear one, refusing to let her daughter be a slave to European fashion.

"We can't always dress the way we want to, sweetheart," she said calmly, holding out her arms stiffly. "So we make the best of it."

Lilit grimaced as she watched the maid pull the garment around her mother's waist, then turning to her back and pulling on the laces. The ten year old winced deeply.

"Not too tight. I know you must be very confused, dear, but," she inhaled sharply, "That should be fine, Talya. Not exactly up to European standards, but it should do. As I was saying," the woman addressed her daughter, pushing a black curl away from her face, "Sometimes disguise is necessary."

There was the noise of a drawer scraping open; Lilit looked up to see Talya pulling a thin knife from a dressing table. "Here, my lady." She handed the knife, hilt first, to Lilit's mother. Talya was one of the rare, remarkable women who would let their employers walk around completely armed without blinking twice.

It made Lilit wonder what she was doing before Nene had hired her, deciding she was an excellent character from her long, calloused hands.

"Thank you. Are you watching, Lilit?"

She looked up. Her mother was slipping the knife into the front of the corset, leaving just a hint of the hilt from the top.

"See? You can't see at all, with all the other ridiculous layers piled over it. A perfect hiding place for a weapon. No man would dare look here, either." She beamed. "Now get this terrible thing off me, Talya. Hopefully you'll never have to wear one of these abominations," she told Lilit, shuddering.

Lilit laughed, still perched on the footstool. "That's much better then hiding them in the sleeves."

"Exactly!" Her mother responded, free of the garment. She walked over to Lilit, kissing the top of her head.

This is how they always were, lace and daggers for lessons, discussions in English, German, and whatever other languages Lilit had been roped into learning during tea.

It was during the Young Turk uprising that her mother was taken away from her. Shot in cold blood while Lilit, eleven, stayed at home with Nene.

She could only recall flickers of feelings and moments, laid out in fading photographs across her memories. She remembered being told to stay in her room, peeking out the door to find her father carrying a heavy shape she didn't recognize, covered in a blood splattered sheet. It was bad enough to bring home news of a failed revolution, but to carry along the corpse of your wife along with it…

"Too young," Nene kept saying, shaking her head. For the longest time, Lilit thought she was referring to her daughter in law, still in her thirties, beautiful and fresh and so _alive._

Eventually, the curtain fell and she realized her grandmother was referring to _her_. Too young for revolution, too young to lose a parent, too young for her life to shatter into tiny pieces.

But Lilit disagreed.

Eleven was old enough to be able to realize your mother was never coming back. Old enough to hold your head high and take the responsibility with steady hands. But it didn't make anything easier.

* * *

><p>The old woman's hands quickly and delicately split her grandchild's hair into braids, propped up on a pillow in her magnificent bed.<p>

"Such pretty hair," She said softly. "Your mother used to wear it like this when she was your age, you know."

"It's the most practical way to wear it." Lilit's voice was hardened, too harsh for a child. She hated talking about her, hearing the stories of how Zaven met his future wife when they were still children. Nene knew it was meant to be right away.

Can't stand it, not anymore.

"Lilit." She put the brush down, using a tone that makes her granddaughter turn around to face her. "You can't act like this. These things happen. Revolution breaks family apart." Nene's expression softened. "You know I won't be here much longer,"

"Don't say that." Desperation crept into her voice, and she swallowed back tears. Close to six months since her mother died, and she hadn't cried once since the night Nene told her.

"My girl, I'm just worried about you." She sighed, sounding dangerously old. Lilit tried not to wince.

"I'll be fine." She said, staring at her with a fierce, determined look, conquering the threat of tears.

It might not be strictly true, but all that mattered was she kept on going.

* * *

><p>Lilit staggered into the warehouse, hands pressed tightly against her side, palms coming away bloody. Of all the <em>nights…<em>

She had left streaks of blood on the levers, grinding her teeth as she tried to find strength under aches and exhaustion. She stumbled up the stairs now, gripping the rails with both hands, bags suspended on her elbow, until she finally, _finally _reached the kitchen.

She dropped the bags on the ground, stumbling around, looking for the bandages. If they had any hired help in the household, they could of brought them to Lilit, letting her bleed in peace on the floor instead of being forced to grit her teeth and wobble around. But even Talya had left years ago, shortly after her mother's death, apologetic but unable to survive on the family's increasingly lower and lower pay.

There they were. She reached for them, leaving trails of red on everything she touched. Why was blood so _messy?_

She was wrapping the bandages around her waist, dress thrown onto the floor and left to rot with the groceries, when her father stepped into the room.

"You're normally much quieter when you come in, Lilit, I'm sur-" his voice gave out as he surveyed the room.

"Would you like help with that?" He asked softly.

"Not bleeding to death would be nice, thank you," his daughter scowled. She was never this sharp with him, but there was something about gaping wounds that tended to speed up her temper.

He pushed away her hands, softly, and began dressing the wound. Lilit exhaled shakily, running her hands over her face as the blood dried on her hands.

"I hate to see what the other person looks like," he joked softly, smiling despite the grim situation.

Lilit recalled them, two men who thought they could corner a fourteen-year-old getting food for her family without issue.

That had changed very suddenly when she had pulled out a long curved knife in response to their teases and suggestions.

But she had been too slow to act- the knife had been a warning, not a movement, and they soon realized she was something to be stabbed, not played with. It was a shallow cut, but it had took her ten more minutes to walk home, using all her focus to remember the route to get there. But for all her worth, she kept her head raised high and eyes fierce, not letting the slightest bit of pain come through. They hadn't dared follow her.

Lilit had given them long scars across their faces in payment, but it wasn't enough.

It would have been so easy to cut their throats, leave two vile members of society dead without regrets, save countless future victims.

But she didn't.

She _couldn't. _Her hands had shook and her stomach heaved and something deep inside her protested heavily at the thought of killing them. It was madness, pure madness- how was she supposed to survive in this city, if she was too scared to kill, too reluctant to take someone's life?

She was only a scared little girl who couldn't do anything.

"Is Nene asleep?" She said softly, sometime later, after the jagged agony had softened to a dull ache. She wore her nightgown, curled in her bed.

"Yes. She'll be upset with you, you know." Her father sat at the edge of the bed, reading a book in English.

She sighed. "I was being stupid. I'm sorry, father." She leaned into her pillow, long black hair still damp and falling in long strands, out of their usual plaits.

"I can't lose you." Zaven said, eyes flickering down. "I can't, Lilit."

She swallowed, waiting for the words to come. Waiting for him to tell her there will be no more excursions at night, no more fights with men twice her age. Waiting for the end of her independence.

He sighed. "Just be careful."

Lilit watched him leave the room, turning off her lights one by one, and wondered if she'd always feel this alone in the world.

The next time, she would leave no one standing, no proof of her failure.


	2. Chapter 2

Guh, dear readers, today has not been a good day. At least I found an _awesome _research book for upcoming fic! YAAAY.

Glad you're all enjoying this, though. I am seriously digging all the Lilit love in the reviews!

Anyway, this chapter starts the Behemoth stuff, so enjoy!

* * *

><p>"An Austrian, father, <em>really?"<em> Her hands were on her hips, dark eyes glaring with an intense unhidden annoyance.

"He's a good chap, honestly," Zaven said, cheerful as usual. "The Germans were chasing him, so he can't be all that bad." He peeled an apple with his knife, still smiling brightly.

Sometimes Lilit wondered how on Earth they were related.

"Or he could be a spy, and his friends were chasing him so he could gain your trust." She rolled her eyes, picking up an apple for herself, not bothering to peel it.

"Do you trust anyone outside of your family, Lilit?" He teased. "I swear, you'll think your own husband is secretly plotting to murder you."

"You never know with men," Lilit muttered, glancing at the apple's glossy surface. She turned it slowly in her hand, contemplating. What was the point of marriage, anyway? A lifetime of servitude to a man who thought you didn't think you were worth anything more then a pretty face and baring children.

There was the occasional rare gem of a man like her father who didn't fall into the category of "absolutely horrid", but he was truly one of a kind.

Lilit would most likely never be someone's bride.

She was strangely content with this thought.

* * *

><p>She watched the boy leave the reporter, hands clenching into fists in her skirts. Her father was brilliant, yes. Most of the time. The rest, he made incredibly stupid decisions such as choosing to trust strange foreigners.<p>

The boy was too far away to distinguish; all she could see of him was a fez and a head of reddish-brown curls, along with clothes that made it obvious he didn't struggle for anything.

He walked carefully, holding a map in one hand, a birdcage in the other. Lilit frowned, flat heeled red shoes silent as she followed him.

It took him too long to notice her, oblivious and too confident in himself. At least he had the logic to try and lose her, but any admiration she had for him was dashed when he pressed his knife against her throat.

"Surrender, sir, I have the advantage!"

Stupid boy.

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, and spun around, robes flaring out.

"Not quite an advantage, boy," She said, falling into German easily. "Unless you want to join me in death." She unsheathed her knife, holding it steady.

It was a slim chance, anyway. The boy was handsome, but there was a soft naivety to him that made Lilit doubt very sincerely that he had ever killed anyone. He was younger than her, if she had to guess, fifteen or so to her near eighteen years.

His green eyes widened more as he glanced down and saw the knife pointed at his stomach, eager to pierce the elegant silk fabric.

She wondered how long they would stay there, stuck in a stalemate, until she heard the familiar sound of the warehouse door opening.

She looked up; catching her father with the same grin he wore yesterday.

"Ah, Alek! You're finally here. And I see you've met my daughter."

Lilit scowled silently, refusing to be the first to disarm. Alek reluctantly pulled his knife away from her throat, hand shaking.

She knew the stupid boy didn't have it in him.

* * *

><p>Nene, at least, had the same disdain for the boy. She had been just as suspicious of him during their meeting, which suited Lilit quite well, until he had announced he was royalty and any chance of her being able to eliminate this problem once and for all disappeared in a flash.<p>

If _that _hadn't been bad enough, she had been forced to spend the afternoon watching him show off in the Committee's walkers. He was talented, yes, but had a high sense of superiority that she couldn't stand. Of course, if she mentioned it to him, he'd probably just respond that he _was_ technically superior. Ugh.

He had told her father he was expecting two of his men to show up the following day, and Lilit had to hold back a groan. _More _suspicious men her father would blindly trust. Wonderful.

But the absolute best part was yet to occur. She would be stuck escorting him around the city tomorrow, for no reason stated. Alek had grimaced and accepted this, but she had stood up and absolutely refused, until Zaven gently reminded her that he would most likely get himself captured without her.

At least he had brought the creature with him. It lay across the table in front of her, curled in a ball, body warm and soft. Early in the day, she had named it 'Bovril.' Alek had only blinked, confused at her suggestion, probably unfamiliar with what Bovril actually was, but took to the name right away. Lilit petted it absent mindedly as she sulked.

She should of just left him to bleed to death in the alleyway, she thought. The boy in question was talking to Zaven about walkers, hands fluttering as he did so.

He seemed to have already accepted him as a son, and after that 'Nene' slip up…Lilit sighed. She didn't need anyone else in her anarchist, broken little family.

_Especially_ odd, suspicious aristocrats.

* * *

><p>"I don't see why I have to look for your men with you," Lilit mumbled, arms crossed as they walked into the hotel lobby.<p>

She could see him holding back a sigh as he spoke. "Thank you for coming with me, Lilit," he said formally, as if she wasn't forced to do so.

He glanced around the room, but just shook his head.

"Perhaps they're already in my room." He commented optimistically, heading toward the elevator.

"That's ridiculous_. _How, exactly, would they know which one it was? Unless you were stupid enough to put it under your name…"

"Lilit."

She raised her eyebrows.

"Please stop being so pessimistic."

"I'm just being realistic," She scoffed, stepping into the elevator. The boy stood perfectly straight at the back of the elevator, green eyes starting to lose their hopeful spark.

"But maybe," She added. A blonde stepped in, and for a second something in her brain was off, because she could of _sworn _the stranger was a…

…But that was silly.

"Nice weather we're having," He commented in English, and Lilit frowned a bit, trying to recall the proper response.

Alek had apparently turned into a goldfish. His mouth was hanging open, a rather unattractive look for him.

"Dylan, in case you've forgotten." The stranger said, smiling slightly.

…Wait, was _this _one of his men?

Lilit had imagined them to be older. …And less attractive.

"God's wounds," the royal swore. "It _is _you. But what are you-"

Dylan cut him off. "It's a long story. And a bit secret, actually." He gave her a look that gave Lilit the impression he already was not fond of her.

But she hadn't even said a _word._ And, for that matter, why did she mind so much?

"Ah, of course. Introductions are in order." Lilit opened her mouth to protest, was he really _that _stupid—"Or they will be, quite soon." He added, finally remembering the elevator escort.

This was turning out to be a strange day.

* * *

><p>Lilit knew there was something going on.<p>

She didn't have the same supernatural sense her grandmother had, but still, _still_, she knew there was something unusual about the Scot and the prince.

…Or was it _his_ prince?

She had known the boy long enough to know he was royalty, see him drive a walker, and decide he was a completely self-righteous idiot, but she had never seen him laugh.

But around the midshipman…

They were sitting on the divan, awfully close, talking loudly and laughing about something or another. Dylan's bright blue eyes were shining, and Alek was running his hand through the back of his hair, saying, "I can't believe you're here, Dylan," over and over, with a stupid, completely at peace look on his face.

Yes, Lilit decided. There was definitely something strange about those two.

"I didn't tell you, did I?" The blonde grinned. "I got a medal, for saving Newkirk's bum." His strange way of speaking was proving difficult for Lilit's underused English.

"God's wounds," Alek breathed. "Congratulations." He stopped for a second, and lowered his voice. "Your father would be proud."

Dylan's face took on an unusually solemn expression. "Aye." He swallowed, hard, before wiping the glum look away. "Reckon your father wouldn't approve of joining a league of mad anarchists, though." He joked.

"We're not all mad," Lilit commented from her teacup, Bovril curled on her lap. "Just most."

The boys seem to have forgotten she was there, glancing up as if she had just appeared in a puff of smoke.

"Right." Dylan said, frowning. "None the less, anarchists are anarchists."

"Oh, don't start," The prince laughed, leaning his head back. "This is my destiny," he said confidently.

"Aye, your destiny," his friend rolled his eyes. "You're full of clart."

"I am not! …Whatever clart is."

Dylan aimed a pillow at him with remarkable aim. Alek returned the favor (at least he didn't crush it this time) and soon the lone girl in the room was practically invisible.

Lilit sighed. Boys. They were bad enough normally. Worse when they only had eyes for each other.

* * *

><p>Istanbul with two foreigners was tiring enough, but when one of them had never lived in a Clanker city before, it fell into the category of torture.<p>

Dylan would just stop in the middle of the street, completely dumbfounded, forcing Alek to backtrack and grab him by the arm, making Lilit to wait for the slow duo, and setting her entire thought process off track.

It was amusing about how thrown off the midshipman was by the new setting, however. The prince had two days on him, and was already walking around the city like he had lived there his entire life, pointing out landmarks.

But all the little things Lilit had walked past the last 17 years, taking them for granted, they completely fawned over. Like the jewelry stand on the side of the street, which made the blonde stop short.

"My ma would love these," He commented, turning a bracelet over in his thin hands.

She assumed Alek was just entranced by the shiny surfaces.

Lilit pulled them both away before they were conned into buying the woman's entire stock.

They had lunch back at the hotel, paid for by Alek. Lilit was strongly curious about where a prince on the run managed to pull his funds from. Dylan was a strong contrast from their drilled-since-birth table manners, telling stories about the _Leviathan_ while he ate. Lilit tried very hard to ignore the way he made her heart pound and get her to smile without even trying.

He was a bad influence on the royal, though in a different way. He hadn't completely dropped the formality, but he was much more… real. He and Dylan spend the entire meal talking, completely ignoring her. Again. (And the midshipman talked with his mouth full.)

Lilit played the "refrained lady annoyed by this behavior" card well, but on the inside, she had to admit that she was enjoying herself.

* * *

><p>Lilit was beginning to wonder if Dylan's grudge against her would ever fade, several days after meeting him. He had been obviously relieved when she left, that first day in the hotel, and kept glaring at her when he thought she wasn't watching.<p>

It would be easy if she could just brush him off, renounce him as just as stupid as any other boy she met, but she _couldn't. _He was incredibly charming, funny, clever, and, well…yes, handsome.

It was bizarre for her. She had never ever liked someone before (a fact her father was quite happy with) and here came Dylan Sharp, turning everything upside down. She had even willingly gone back to the hotel the next day just to see him again.

There were only two issues.

One, he hated her. This much was clear.

And two, and much more problematic, it was quite obvious the blonde had more then platonic affections for the young prince.

If Dylan was obvious with the first display of feelings, he was many times worse with the second. _Of course_ she saw the hidden looks, the way he reacted to his touch, the fact that he refused to leave his side unless forced.

It was debatable if this prince had figured it out, on the other hand. He was… affectionate as well, but then again, he hadn't even figured out Lilit was a girl when they first met. So.

Hatred was something she could get past. She tried being softer, showing the kind side of her personality usually reserved for family, complimenting the boy. But there wasn't much of a point. She'd never be Alek. Or, for that matter, a man.

The first boy she ever had feelings for, and she could never have him. It was a depressing thought.

At the very least, Lilit thought, it would be quite interesting to see how this worked out.


	3. Chapter 3

Hello, lovely readers! Here comes what I fondly call THE MONSTER CHAPTER.

This thing checks in at over 6 pages on word. Dear lord.

I tried to break this fic up rather evenly (Chapter one was family, two was introductions, three is relationship developing, four will be the battle, and five the wrap up) which meant that this chapter ended up really, really long. It was fun to write, though.

I'm not sure when four will be uploaded, because I am being lazy and haven't finished it yet. (sshh) I'm going to give a rough estimate of next Friday. Maybe sooner if my procrastination ceases.

As always, I want to thank my lovely reviewers, though I am saddened by those of you who don't like Lilit. You make me a sad panda, guys. ): I love Lilit so much.

But I'm glad that this fic is turning your opinion of her around. That was the intention, I guess.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter~!

* * *

><p>Working with Dylan was… unusual, to say the least. It had taken her close to a week to realize half the strange words Dylan said were <em>curses<em>, which was rather entertaining. And he cussed quite frequently while working with the Spider.

Lilit didn't mind. She'd just simply rearrange the midshipman's hands, helping him work out the controls and trying very hard not to blush.

Working with Dylan was also the highlight of her day, but she wouldn't mention that to anyone.

Especially not Mr. Sharp.

Most of his distaste for her had faded (she actually caught a smile, every once and a while) but that didn't mean she had that much better of a chance.

"Lilit?" He frowned at her, blonde eyebrows furrowed.

"Huh?" She looked up. Her brown eyes were cloudy in her distraction.

"Your sleeve." He pointed, and she winced. It had gotten caught in the machine. She sighed as she tugged it free, ripping the fabric. She had let herself get completely lost in her thoughts- Dylan probably had a proper term for it, though she definitely did not want to ask.

"Thank you," she muttered, pulling at the loose threads from the tear. "Are you nervous about tomorrow?" Lilit asked softly, pushing the topic away from her empty-headedness.

"A squick—wait, how did you know about that?"

"Alek didn't tell you yet? I'm-" She was interrupted by the prince himself, grease in neat lines across his face and arms. Bovril was perched on his shoulder, cheerful and giggling.

"Zaven told me to get you two for supper."

"Aye, fine." He gave Lilit a quick glance, as if inviting her to continue her answer, but she just shrugged. Alek could explain it to him later.

"It better not be spicy," the blonde grumbled, teeth set.

* * *

><p>Lilit stood out in the street, tapping her embroidered slippers impatiently, waiting for the Scot. Alek looked nervous, letting out a sigh of relief when Dylan came through the door.<p>

The other boy froze, looking Lilit over. "What's _she _doing here?" The girl in question scowled. She thought they were over this.

"Didn't I tell you?" Of course, the royal forgot to inform him on the plan. Typical. "We need someone the hotel staff won't recognize. Lilit rented a suite yesterday." Alek had handed her a handful of coins that she had hastily dropped into a bag (really, the boy was clueless) and had rented a room with a cloud of confidence… and immediately turned around and left the hotel.

This was a stupid plan, really.

"And how exactly does that help us?" His friend replied skeptically.

"My room's on the highest floor, like Alek's was. Two doors away. And they both have balconies." She gave him a dark look, daring him to complain. "I can sneak as well as you two can," if not better_,_ she added mentally. "Ask Alek how easily I trailed him."

"Aye, he's told me that story more then once," Dylan replied. Lilit glanced at Alek quickly, pleased that he didn't just pretend it didn't happen, "It's just that…" He trailed off, looking at his feet and then back up to Lilit. His face was whirlwind of conflicting emotions; annoyed, worried and apologetic.

"Is it because I'm a girl?" She said coldly, arms crossed. Her face heated, and she tightened her hands into fists without meaning to, running through a marathon of emotions. She had hoped his friend's bias wasn't shared, but apparently her standards were much too high. Stupid. Why did she ever let her feelings get the best of her?

"Of course not." He shook his head quickly. "I'm just sleepy, that's all." Lilit scoffed. Since when did tiredness have to do with acting like—like a _bum rag_, as the midshipman would say.

She stood across from him defiantly, waiting for an explanation or an apology. But Dylan just strode off, without another word. She was upset, plain and simple. Upset with Dylan, of course, but with herself as well- why did she ever let herself become so vulnerable, so easily hurt by a boy? Alek had observed the conversation silently, but he glanced at Lilit after with a sad smile.

"Don't mind Dylan. He…" He looked at her for a long moment. "You like him, don't you?"

Lilit blinked, too amazed to speak. How had Alek- absolutely clueless Alek- have the perception to figure it out, when Mr. Sharp still had no clue? She cleared her throat, glaring at a building behind him.

"It's none of your business." She said quietly, feelings her cheeks heat.

"I know."

She sped off in a huff, not letting him get another word in.

* * *

><p>Lilit pressed her back against the wall, sighing. What was taking them so long? They had sneaked into the room close to half an hour ago, and she had been stuck waiting the entire time. Snatches of conversations occasionally crept through the walls, but nothing she could really understand.<p>

"Let's get out of here. We have a revolution to plan." The voice was quiet, but obviously the prince's, sounding cheerful.

She opened the door impatiently.

"Took you two long enough," She understated. More like several decades. "I thought you'd got yourselves into trouble."

There was something… peculiar about them. Alek looked unusually cheerful, as opposed to his typical solemn expression. And Dylan was bright red, from his neck to his ears.

….Strange.

"We were having a bit of a discussion," the boy with red-brown hair grinned, turning to wink at Dylan.

…Wait.

What was going on?

….Did they?

No, they couldn't have. But their faces- Dylan looked almost _guilty…_ Dear God. Lilit was old enough to… understand this sort of behavior, but it did not mean she _wanted _to.

"But we found this."

Lilit shot Alek a look that clearly meant "you did _not _just imply what I thought you did, what is wrong with you two, we're on a mission", but he didn't seem to catch it. Dylan looked away from her, face burning even redder.

She was going to kill them. Why did she leave them alone in a hotel room? She ignored the powerful surge of jealousy crashing through her and stomped forward. She was getting answers, whether they liked it or not.

Alek gave her a shrug, (Oh, like he isn't just as guilty, she thought angrily) and turned to follow his….. friend.

Mr. Sharp stopped suddenly as they walked down the stairs. "The cooks are in the kitchen already. We can't go back that way."

"Straight through the lobby doors then," Lilit said sharply, face coldly neutral. "If no one found your letter, there won't be any German agents about."

"Aye, but some of us are wanted taxi thieves!" Dylan cried. She resisted the urge to ssh him.

"It'll be fine," Alek replied, shaking his head. "We'll be out the door before anyone gives us a second look."

"Just try not to act _suspicious_," Lilit said, emphasizing the last word with another look and opening the door with her shoulder.

Lilit held her head high and gathered an air of confidence from nowhere. Well, sure, Dylan was rude and a completely different person then she thought he was, not to mention had a really poor sense of timing, but she never needed him anyway.

There was absolutely no reason to be upset. Or jealous. The prince could have him. She couldn't care less.

It was probably this thought process that led her to not realize something was wrong; she had been too busy trying to convince herself that her emotions were completely false to look around. The prince came to a halt suddenly in the middle of the room, looking towards a small table where a scruffy looking man sat.

"Ah, Prince Alek," Said a voice in cheerful English. Lilit eyes widened. Oh no. "I thought you might be somewhere hereabouts."

The voice touched on her memory, but the face brought her all the way back- the day she had first met Alek, over a week ago.

In fact, it was the reason she got off on the wrong start with him in the first place. The reporter grinned at the group, and Lilit wondered how quickly she would be able to kill him.

* * *

><p>The group had returned home, dejected and exhausted. The midshipman had collapsed on the furniture as soon as they came through the warehouse, head in his hands.<p>

"Is something wrong?" Lilit asked quietly, watching him curl up and curse quietly.

"Processing the day, I guess. Eddie Malone, and our little conversation in the hotel." Alek replied, following her gaze.

"Conversation," She replied dryly. "Right." She had pointed out their suspicious dedication to covering for each other in the café, but they had deflected the accusation with much more noble reasons.

She thought back to her and Dylan's hands, held together across the table. The closest they would ever be.

"Yes," Alek replied, not catching her sarcasm. "You might want to talk about it with him later," He said, smiling. "I'm sworn to secrecy, of course. But I'll just say…" He glanced toward Dylan, as if he was worried he'd overhear. "It involves our chat earlier."

Wait. So they actually _talked_? Lilit flushed slightly. She had just jumped to conclusions so quickly, that she didn't consider that- if they were talking about _her _instead…

….That would explain a rather lot, wouldn't it?

Then what Alek actually said clicked in her mind.

…He _didn't._

Of all the terrible things- how dare he! Giving away a girl's darkest secret without her permission, the nerve! The prince normally annoyed her, sure, but this… this was unforgivable.

"You're horrible with secrets," She said, not mentioning her error, glaring at him with her dark brown eyes. "I can't believe you told him!"

He threw up his hands. "What was I supposed to do? He asked about you!"

"What are you two talking about?" Dylan muttered, voice muffled by the pillow. Bovril had waddled over, and was now perched on his blonde head.

"Nothing," the prince and anarchist quickly said together.

* * *

><p>"I don't generally voice my… dislike for people, Dylan, but I am really not fond of Mr. Eddie Malone." The boy held his head in his hands, hunched over at a table.<p>

Dylan smiled softly, reaching across to smooth back his hair. Lilit watched from the fainting couch- Alek didn't flinch, barely reacted, really, used to this behavior. No appreciation for something Lilit would give anything for.

She sighed into one of the pillows, unheard by the two.

"Aye, he's a bum rag. You alright?"

Alek glanced up, dark green eyes locked with his. He opened his mouth, closed it, and just shook his head.

Lilit couldn't remember the last timed she loathed herself so much. Alek, poor, stupid Alek, forced to talk about his parents death with that awful reporter, and here she was… sick to her stomach with jealousy.

Really, she was not pleased with herself.

Dylan Sharp just made everything so _complicated_. Her life was simple, black and white really, before he dropped into it.

Alek had been solemn the past few hours after returning from his interview, taking the day off working with the Walkers to sulk. She didn't blame him, really. If Malone had asked her to talk about her mother's death, she would have just slit his throat and called it a day. She was still angry about the incident the day before, but seeing him so absolutely miserable after having to speak with the reporter had faded her anger directed at him. Slightly.

Still, she didn't mind a break from his constant chatter about providence and his destiny, and all that.

From the way he went on, you would have expected God had appeared outside his window and asked him to assist the revolution, a modern day Joan of Arc.

She sighed, laying on the edge of the fainting couch, playing with the ends of her braids.

Dylan spun out his chair, letting it squeak, and stood up, blonde hair catching the light. The setting sun cast odd shadows across his face, almost making him look like a different person—

The thought hit with a bang, stronger then any of the spices they had been slaving over in the past week.

Joan of Arc.

Lilit fell out of the couch in a clatter of beads and coins, sewn into her fluttering skirts and scarves.

"Barking spiders!" Dylan sputtered, quickly moving towards her "What happened?"

"L-leaned too far, I guess." Dylan helped her up, and she stared hard at his hands. Thin. Delicate.

_You do a lot of sewing, for a boy._

Lilit swallowed hard. "Thank you."

Alek had came out of his stupor- he was now glancing over at her, worry drawn across his face. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine." She dropped Dylan's hands quickly, just barely stopping herself from wiping her hands with her skirt.

"Thanks to Dylan," Alek gave a tiny smile.

His features.

The tailoring.

How he acted around Alek. (That, she realized, momentarily distracted, made their relationship far less scandalous)

_Mr. _Sharp.

And all this time, she never realized…

Dylan frowned at her. "You sure you're alright, lass?"

"Completely." Lilit said, looking up at him. Her.

* * *

><p>It had been close to two weeks since the revelation, and Lilit had recovered. For the most part.<p>

She hadn't said a word, not to anyone, though she wanted to see if Nene had figured it out as well. But she kept quiet, out of respect for the other girl.

Girl. That was still so strange to her, even now.

It was crystal clear that the prince had no clue. Her father didn't know, either (she was sure, if he did, that he'd automatically try to adopt her, and constantly engage her in conversations about the empowerment of women and all that.)

So the men didn't know. Zaven probably would figure it out eventually, she guessed, being Nene's son and seeing Dylan several times a day, but Alek was completely clueless. All you had to do was compare the way he interacted with Lilit- formal, careful, always aware of her gender, to the comfortable way he interacted with his best friend.

And he _was_ slow to pick up on things, despite his loris's repitive help. (She would never forgive herself for missing those countless hints.)

So Dylan's secret was safe.

But what was worrying her the most was something completely internal.

It was the simple, frustrating fact that her feelings for Dylan had not faded, like she expected them to, no, they had exploded in bursts, turning into a wild fire way out of her control. A clever, handsome midshipman was one thing, but a _girl _being so amazing to weave the role and play it to perfection…

…She thought it was bad enough, when Dylan was still a boy, but the reveal had just made everything so much worse. Stranger- and yet stronger.

* * *

><p>"Er. Lilit. Can we talk for a minute?"<p>

She glanced up from the book. "Sure." Her legs were folded up neatly on the same fainting couch she had made her discovery on. She moved over slightly, allowing room for the blonde. She sat down, posture perfectly masculine.

"There's no easy way to say this," Dylan said, sighing. Lilit raised an eyebrow. She had assumed it was about her secret (and the idea that she trusted her enough to tell the secret set a thrill up her spine) but it was an odd opener for that conversation.

" I can take it," She smiled.

"…Hopefully." Dylan glanced at her, hesitating. She took a deep breath. "Alek told me something a few weeks ago."

Lilit's heart dropped to her stomach. Oh. She wondered if anyone had ever told the midshipman that her voice got softer whenever she said Alek's name.

"I guess I was being daft, not noticing… And…I'm flattered, of course, it's just that…" That you were in love with a prince, and had no interest in silly anarchists. Or girls.

Lilit held her head high. She wouldn't act like a stupid girl, heartbroken and devastated. She would accept this- she was an adult now, after all.

"I've got a girl back home, you see." She said, blue eyes locked with hers. It amazed her, that she could lie through her teeth without a sign of it. "You're an amazing person, honestly, it's just that…" She sighed. "I'm sorry. I reckon I should have told you earlier."

Lilit wrapped her arms around her knees. It didn't hurt as bad as she thought it would, really. It was a thin crack across glass, not a complete shatter.

"I understand." She gave a small smile. "What's she like?" It was a low blow, really, to ask about an imaginary person, but she was curious to see how the Scottish girl would react.

Dylan blinked at her, thrown off. "Err."

"Beautiful, I assume."

"…Aye," She blinked at her, finding her bearings in the conversation. "Dead gorgeous."

"And smart," Lilit added.

Dylan nodded.

"But a little clueless sometimes. Especially as you haven't told her yet." Lilit teased softly, turning the imaginary girl to a certain other someone with a few simple lines.

"I haven't." She stared at her, brow furrowing. "But how …"

"A lucky guess." Lilit spread her hands. "But if I was right… She's upper class, isn't she? Only reason someone like _you _would be worried." It was difficult to hide the affection in her voice. Oh well. Did it matter, really, now that she knew?

Dylan blushed bright red. "How did- we are talking about a _girl, _right?" She asked skeptically, looking like she was starting to panic.

"Of course we are," Lilit said, barely hiding her smirk. "Who else would we be talking about?"

The blonde gave her a pained look, like she was debating punching her in the face. "No one. I just…" She looked her over, suspicion clear on her face. "Never mind. That's just… one of many problems we have."

"So I was right," Lilit smirked.

"Aye, don't get a big head." Dylan muttered, still blushing. "That's all I was going to blether on about," she stood up. "Sorry for being such a bum rag about it."

"It's nothing," the girl still sitting said, smiling despite the grim conversation. "I knew this was coming, anyway."

Dylan turned, pity falling over her face. "Lilit…"

The anarchist just waved her hand. "Don't worry about it. Just… tell your girl for me, alright? Only fair."

The blonde gave her a miserable look, standing in the doorway. "I can't."


	4. Chapter 4

Alright, so it's a little late, but not terribly so.

...In my humble opinion, at least.

This was easily the chapter I had the most problems with. It's mostly action, which is not my forte. (understatement of the year, psssh) This was a sort of practice course in getting used to action scenes though, as I tend to just skip them in other fics, lolololol.

So yes, not the happiest with this chapter. On the plus side, it is also the _longest chapter I have ever written for any fic. _SERIOUSLY. Almost seven whole pages on word. And that was with me cutting a couple scenes from the book out.

Anyway, this is not actually the last chapter, as I've said before. (though it sorta feels like it, haha) The for real finale will be uploaded next week! But for now, enjoy~

Edit: I think I fell asleep while editing this or something. I caught most of the typos/air headed moments in this, and they're fixed now! I think. Sorry for all of y'all who were probably wondering what the hell was going on due to my lack of thorough editing, hahah.

* * *

><p>The Minotaur stood in front of Lilit in the courtyard, frozen and stable. She ran a hand along its cold side, her dark brown eyes half shut. She had been nine the first time she had piloted this walker. It was the first time she piloted in general, actually. She had told Alek and Dylan that she had picked it for it's practicality and throwing arm, but in truth, the great machine held a small comfort for her as she risked everything tonight.<p>

She clamored up, alone. Alek had Dylan by his side, lucky boy, but she and her father were both going solo tonight. But Lilit was sure that she could handle it. She wore her piloting outfit, long red sleeves with puffy sunset orange pants, tucked neatly into her boots. It was a vast improvement over the layers of long skirts and scarfs she was always forced to wear outside of piloting.

It seemed Dylan had the right idea, cheating the system so she could wear pants all the time. And not a single person could criticize her out for it.

…Except, of course, for the prince, when he finally found out. She recalled his reaction to her piloting skills, all those weeks ago. He would most certainly disagree with a girl like Dylan cutting her hair short so she could fight and fly.

Lilit pressed her lips together, halting on the side of the walker as she climbed up. It seemed that one could be _completely_ rude and still win the respect and affection of the gender he scorned.

She scowled for a moment, and then pushed back the jealous thoughts. The anarchist had spent the last few weeks 'mooning' over the midshipman and being irrationally angry with Alek, before feeling guilty about her rampant emotions and pushing them away.

There were more important things to worry about tonight, she thought, staring out at the city. She settled herself into the pilot's seat and sighed.

* * *

><p>The nervous pilot ran her hands over her face, exhaling deeply. She could do this.<p>

The sky was a dark bruise dotted with tiny stars, the lights of the city flickering softly. Narrow rays of light fell into her cabin, barely illuminating it. Her arms seemed to be made of shadows. A month ago, she wouldn't have been able to pilot at all in this lighting. There was one thing she found truly admirable about Alek: his night walking abilities. And, of course, the lessons he gave her in the past week. True, he bragged the entire time, but they had really helped.

Şahmeran lifted an elegant hand, signaling the way, and Lilit pushed her hands into the saunters, the Minotaur obeying her movements as if had been obediently waiting her return to the pilot's seat.

She crept through the city carefully and quickly, falling into the trance of piloting. It was probably a good thing Ms. Sharp wasn't here; she'd most certainly distract her from navigating.

The streets were eerily quiet that night. Lilit could hear every sound her walker's hoofs made echo across the surroundings. Her own breathing seemed painfully loud and nervous; she forced herself to take a deep breath to calm herself for a moment, gripping the controls tightly.

Moment over. She would be late if she kept having these little episodes. She curled her toes in her boots and pushed forward, keeping a steady eye on her surroundings.

Until she spotted any other walkers, she would be stuck in the repetitive calm of navigating the city.

* * *

><p>Lilit was used to having a co-pilot, another living thing to bounce ideas off, and glance at to remind her that there was something out there besides the walker connected to her by invisible strings.<p>

Moments like this, where she was alone on a quiet night, surrounded by nothing but a metal shell, made it easy to forget.

She was left alone with her thoughts, which really wasn't the company she wanted right now.

Thoughts, like the ones reminding her painfully that Dylan planned to escape back to her airship, gone without a second glance at the girl who had figured her secret, who wanted to tell her that she knew so _badly_.

And would miss her more then she'd ever want to admit.

She grit her teeth and turned a corner, pulling out into the clear vast opening. The Minotaur slowly turned, and she soon spotted a lone spotlight slicing through the dark.

Perfect. She needed a distraction.

On her own, everything was a matter of reach and speed, getting through the movements as quickly possible. Years of working in this particular walker had taught her that all the visibility she needed from the hatch could be accomplished with a hard kick. While directing her boot towards the lowly placed hand crank, she stretched for the steam gauges. Lilit was immediately thankful that the piloting gloves she received two years previously still fit perfectly. It had been a pain, having to wear her father's old pair, which constantly slipped off and had to be tied with rope around her thin wrists.

With her right hand encased in the saunter, she let a spice bomb roll from it's hold in the magazine. It fell into the Minotaur's open palm. Steam rose through the cabin, making her clothes stick to her back.

Then she had to work on ultimate multitasking- her left hand kept steady on the steam gauges while her right pulled back the lever, leaving the saunters unattended. She bit her lip and kept an eye on the other walker- everything depended on focus, focus, focus.

She timed it to perfection- as soon as the steam was ready, she lifted her hand off the lever, and it popped forward, sending the bomb flying. It spun across the gap between the walkers, leaving a red trail in the air between them.

It was a perfect hit- dead on. She gave a sigh of relief, and flicked her braids over her shoulder. The elephant staggered back if shocked, turning in haphazard circles as it attempted to regain its bearings. They couldn't of gotten the spice yet, Lilit frowned, confused. They must have been wondering why on earth she fired at them- and _what, _for that matter.

But she had no time to wait and see if they would fire back. Lilit had already spotted another elephant, and she pushed the controls forward with a burst of energy, taken from the euphoria of her small victory.

* * *

><p>Lilit panted hard, leaning forward onto the controls, the Minotaur imitating her with a crouch of it's own. Around her, the two war elephants lay on their sides, crewmen evacuating desperately from the hatches. They had attempted to corner her, but she knew better then that- she kept them separate, carefully evading and launching long distance attacks for safety.<p>

It had been a close call though, too close. She sucked in another deep inhale, and then glanced up. She could spot smoke trails in the distance, not too far from her. There was a trio of elephants surrounding the Tesla tower- the four walkers could manage to take them down easily.

She hoped.

The elephants hadn't noticed her yet, and she let herself have another moment of rest to reset the steam gauges. Lilit pushed her hair back with a single gloved hand, shaking slightly in the seat.

The steam cloud must have been Alek and Dylan. The other men- whatever their names were – were starting towards one of the elephants, with Şahmeran letting spice bombs fly at the same one from the other side.

She heard the bullets rattle even from the distance, which reminded her to check the gauges quickly. The needles held towards the right. It was time to move.

The Minotaur advanced with ease, striding towards the center of the battle. She sent spice bombs forward while evaluating the scene quickly. The younger duo was charging towards one elephant, and the other two walkers were working on another.

Which left one unattended.

But the men were struggling- if she joined her father now, the walker would go down easy, and the three could take on the final one together.

She scowled at herself; there was no time to just sit and _think_, she had to act.

And yet she hesitated still.

She glanced outwards. Her father had suddenly broke from the battle, stumbling and hit.

But Şahmeran was hard to take down- she was positive that her father could pull it back up soon.

She saw the angle it was at, facing the Tesla Tower, and suddenly understood where Zaven was headed. And what that entailed. Shock and horror flashed through her mind for a long moment, and she sat frozen at the controls.

There was a war elephant in his path, preventing his path to destruction. He would be stopped, and no one would blame her for not stepping in.

But instead of figuring out what to do next, she thought of how Dylan spoke of the Leviathan, eyes bright with her admiration and love for it.

And her own city, on the brink of something her family had fought for since she could remember.

For a moment, all she could see was her younger self sitting on her bed when Nene told her what happened to her mother. Imagining their roles reversed. But if this was what her father wanted…

Could she do it? Help him on a suicidal mission, just to do what was right?

She took a deep breath, and her hands clenched the saunters tightly. Without a moment to loose, she pushed her walker into action and set off to help him.

The iron golem saw her coming and took a step back, giving her the room to sit idly by and throw spice bombs at the walker in her father's path.

But she didn't bother. It would take too long.

She grit her teeth and put herself directly on the path of the War Elephant. The walker stood frozen for a moment, as if amazed at the mad thing she was planning. But it didn't move out of the way in time- she stretched her arms forward, slamming them into the other walker's surface.

Everything crashed together in an instant of sound and movement.

The momentum kept her forward, and she felt the entire world tip, the ceiling somehow ending up at her feet, and vice versa for the floor. She was still strapped into the pilot seat, upside down but secure.

But that wasn't the end of it. The spices had crept into her cabin, and she sputtered and coughed, until she had to hold her breath, still plowing forward as the walker turned and turned.

Everything was incredibly loud- the scrape of metal was completely deafening, not to mention the crash at every impact.

For a brief moment, she swore she could hear the other crew's breathing. She sat frozen for a moment, until the other walkers hand came crashing down on the head of her walker, and she snapped back into action.

Lilit had no idea how long this went on, turning and scraping and choking, until an impact sent her flying back, breaking the binds on the chair, forcing her to hit the floor hard.

The world burned black, and Lilit slid across the floor in a heap, her cheek to the cold metal.

* * *

><p>Lilit woke to the smell of smoke.<p>

There were other smells hidden in there as well, but she really didn't want to think about them at the moment.

Her head throbbed out a steady beat, blocking out every thought and explanation in her head. She must have hit it. She had been piloting, that much was certain, but she must have crashed pretty badly to wake up on the floor…

She coughed, pulling herself from the ground, shuddering. An invisible weight pushed down on her shoulders, and for a long moment, she frowned, trying to remember why everything was so dizzy.

And why she felt so _guilty._

She stood up slowly, feet sliding from the angle. She'd have to get out through the view port- she had no other choice.

Her walker- her very first- was completely done for.

She sighed, looking around for her body kite. She found it jutting out from the panel she stored it in, and shook it out carefully, making sure not to rip the bag. Every shake made her head hurt worse then it did before.

Climbing from the opening, she could feel every rip and tear in her piloting outfit, cringing from the cold metal. She held out her hands for balance, taking in the abandoned War Elephant lying next to her poor Minotaur. The battle was coming back now, cutting through the pain. She felt her stomach turn as other memories came back as well.

…The bastards must have gotten out unharmed.

She wasn't sure if she was pleased or angry.

For a long while, she just sat on the top of the walker, glancing around the battlegrounds, taking in everything that happened while she had been unconscious, holding her head with both hands.

Something was tapping at the back of her memory, repressed by guilt and horror.

She turned to see the Tesla tower, collapsed and in the arms of Şahmeran, completely still.

The burnt smell of flesh and hair washed over her and she felt a sob of horror rise in her throat.

What had she _done?_

Tears streaked down her cheeks without warning. She had done this- chose not to stop him. And here was the result. The fallen walker in her vision, the burning smell in her nose, the complete silence ringing in her ears.

She raised her hands to her mouth and sobbed silently, unable to tear her eyes away from the scene of distraction, even when her vision blurred completely.

Lilit had assumed- hoped, even, that there would be nothing worse then hearing that her mother died.

She perched there silently in the breeze, crying for a father she helped kill.

Nothing. Nothing was worth this.

* * *

><p>The world fell apart so easily.<p>

She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering slightly in the cool sea breeze. Everything felt so distant.

Unreal.

Like the ground was about to open up beneath her.

The water turned uneasily, and she could catch the ships in the distance. The cold cut through the tears in her clothes.

Lilit could never remember feeling quite this broken. She had eventually left the Minotaur, unable to handle seeing either walker's corpse anymore, and wandered to a cliff, letting the wind from the sea push at her.

Someone called her name. She spun around, braids spinning out behind her, her locks falling out of their plaits as the evening wore on.

Dylan. The midshipman sprinted towards her quickly, the prince just behind her, breaking across the gap as Lilit watched silently. Bovril had curled into Dylan's shoulder- something that seemed odd, though she really couldn't recall why.

Both were covered head to toe in dirt and scratches, looking most certainly worse for wear.

But the expressions they shared- twin looks of sympathy and pain, gave the impression that she was the only one who mattered in the world, right now.

It was pathetic. The fighter in her wanted to turn away, to reject their pity and remain stoically on her own.

As she always did.

She turned towards Dylan, blue eyes dull in the dim light and forehead crumpled. Something in her snapped, and she fell forward into her arms.

She was done fighting.

* * *

><p>"I'm sorry about your father." Alek raised a hand as if he wanted her to shake it, or pat her on the shoulder- and promptly dropped it.<p>

Oddly enough, she was so out of sorts tonight that she might have actually let him. Being around the two of them had calmed her considerably, and she had even come close to smiling in the past couple minutes.

"If the sultan wins tonight," Lilit said, looking him over with a mix of emotions, "You'll simply run off somewhere new, won't you?" She gave him another loaded look, this time, it was "just go with Dylan, you idiot."

If he had any sense, he would simply return to the Leviathan, but of course, that was the main thing the boy lacked.

She imagined, for a second, returning with Dylan to the ship, leaving her responsibilities behind for a life of fresh independence and adventure.

And yet, she could only return to Nene's face. Her broken family diminished once again.

She wouldn't abandon the only family she had left.

Unlike her parents.

"That's probably true," Alek said, looking like this was the first time he thought about what he was going to do _after_ the battle. Of course.

"Good luck, then." She said dryly. The prince gave her a slow sort of half smile, one that didn't reach his dark green eyes.

The boy may have annoyed her to no end, but he was still a friend.

It was a rather weak friendship, but nonetheless.

She stumbled for words in her mind, what would make a proper goodbye, finally settling on, "Your gold was very useful." It was better than nothing.

"You're welcome," He replied, smiling harder now, "if that was meant as a thank you."

She almost smiled back. "It was."

Turning towards Dylan, Lilit felt a lump form in her throat. It was easy to give Alek a halfhearted goodbye, as her feelings for him amounted to no more then a mild friendship on a good day.

...But the midshipman was another story. Respect, friendship, and a good deal of affection didn't even start to cover her feelings for Dylan.

She looked at her now. The Scot was exhausted looking, with dark bags under her eyes, grime covering her cheeks and hair, and she could already see bruises forming on her light skin.

The anarchist scoffed at herself. Even disheveled looking, her heart still pounded whenever she looked at the blonde. Pathetic.

"No matter what happens," Lilit said softly, looking her dead in the eye. "I'll never forget what you've done for us." For _me_. "I think you're the most brilliant _boy_ I've ever met." The words sat in the air for a moment, empty and plain. Nothing spectacular, just a generic gushing comment from a silly girl, a hidden meaning sitting comfortably underneath.

And yet, no real reaction from either. Oh well, she had given one final try. And maybe Dylan didn't need to know Lilit had figured her out. At least she was aware of how she felt.

Dylan pressed her lips together, as if hesitating. Suddenly Lilit realized the distance between them was just a hands distance, thumb to little finger.

Perhaps there was a better way to say goodbye.

"Aye," the blonde said, a tad awkwardly. "Well… It was just—"

Lilit grabbed her by the waist, brushing their mouths together in one elegant movement.

She may have never kissed before, but that didn't mean she couldn't enjoy this fleeting moment between her and the first 'boy' she ever liked- most likely, the only boy she ever would like.

It wasn't perfect, far from it. Dylan didn't pull back, but stood there frozen in shock. Lilit did no more then bump their lips together. (not like she really knew anything more)

And yet… it felt like the first something to go right in her life for a very long time, standing together on that cliff. She wrapped her hand around the taller girl's wrist, and let the world slip out of her vision, and everything just felt soft and wonderful for the smallest moment.

She pulled back slowly, grinning without even trying. "I'm sorry. I was just curious." She apologized quickly, thought she wasn't in the slightest. She felt no guilt for stealing a kiss- she assumed this had been one of many.

Though, of course, none shared with the only person that mattered.

She glanced at Alek quickly. He was staring wide eyed at the two of them, caught in a state of utter disbelief.

Lilit grinned harder, looking back at Dylan.

"C-curious? Barking spiders!" She exclaimed, words muffled by the hand at her mouth. "You hardly know me!"

Lilit laughed, energy from the kiss bubbling up in her. "I know you better than you think, _Mr. _Sharp."

Dylan was still too shocked to let the words get to her, but Lilit was sure she'd figure out what she meant soon.

She looked back to Alek, who had recovered, and was staring at her in a state of muffled awe.

"You don't know what a friend you have in Dylan." Lilit smirked. She sent him a look saying "and you better figure it out soon, before someone else comes by and kisses her _again."_

As usual, he didn't catch it.

Was it strange, that she wished all the best for those two? She tightened her kite and perched, ready for flight.

She dropped off the cliff, feeling the wind soar past her, braids flying past her ears. This part managed to be her favorite and least- complete terror and worry, and yet…

She could hear Alek's gasp clearly, and she laughed out loud as the kite reangled itself, finally catching the wind.

Lilit stretched out her arms around her, shutting her eyes for a moment. She couldn't remember the last time she was this full of energy.

For a moment, she had been able to forget everything.

And for that, she would always be in Dylan Sharp's debt.


	5. Chapter 5

Next week. HA. Yeah, time management is not my strong point. So here it is, a month later. (Ouch. Sorry guys. Hopefully Now Or Never softened the wait a little?)

Oh, this fic...

It's actually the first fanfic I've completed. (Not counting oneshots.) That feels a little... late for me, but well, it's a start, hahaha. I really latched onto the lovely anarchist because of this story. Seriously, before this fic all I could say was "I think Lilit likes girls...?" Now, I could give you a 3 page essay with page number sources and everything. OKAY MAYBE THAT IS SLIGHTLY EXAGGERATED. But I do think it's wonderful that she's been confirmed as bi/lesbian. And I hope this will shut up the people who insist she's totally straight. :P

She's a lovely character, strong and determined and confident, and so true to herself. And I really can't wait to see her again in Goliath.

Speaking of that- yes, there is going to be a sequel to this. Because if she's coming back, no waaaay I'm missing that.

So here we go- the final chapter. I'd like to send out HUGS AND FLYING WHALES to all of my reviewers, silent readers, people who rec'd me on Scott's blog, read this thing and totally hated it, ERRYBODY, because you are, I assume, part of this wonderful fandom, and thus, awesome by default.

* * *

><p>Currents of air from the sea pushed Lilit along in her little flying contraption, along a solitary path that required too much concentration to allow free thought. It was a good thing, too, because she felt the euphoria from the kiss starting to fade.<p>

The kite was a pain to control, needing a clear head and a body in top shape to twist and angle itself. Neither of which she had at the moment. There was a thick fog in her head and an undeniable ache to her muscles, and she was looking for her uncle's ship with increasingly desperate eyes. It was a small thing, short sails and worn over the years. She caught a weak air current, tumbling clumsily in the air and she bit her lip hard. That would be wonderful, wouldn't it? Crashing into the ocean and no one the wiser.

Nene, at least, would think she died a hero's death, instead of cowardly going home with only a torn pilot suit and the kite at her back. She'd think that her granddaughter was someone worth respecting. The foul thoughts brewed in her head endlessly, something to keep her from drifting off and skimming through the waves.

Some time later she spotted the little boat, bobbing uneasily across the water. If she squinted, she could catch the balding head of Aram, searching the sky in the entirely wrong direction.

Lilit sighed in relief, adjusting her kite for landing, and swerving as close to the boat as she could. There were already clean holes blown through the wings- this was not going to be clean. Or painless.

Her uncle waved at her, taking large steps backwards to make room for her landing. His bespectacled eyes had already figured her what her landing method was.

She moved her arms out, wishing, not for the first time, that she had figured out a parachute mechanic to the body kite. The wings struggled in the gale, rejecting the sudden movement, before giving in and fanning out behind her head. She hit the deck at a slant, fresh pain rocketing up from her boot soles. Running off the momentum, she found herself in front of Aram, who, as usual, wasn't smiling.

At his solemn expression, relief coursed through her. He knew, he had to have seen the Tesla tower, and already understood what happened to his brother. She wouldn't have to explain anything- just sit, quiet and dull, acting like a proper girl for once.

And it all shattered to bits with his first words. "Where's your father? You're late." He flipped open a pocket watch, to double check. She swallowed hard, and he continued, eyebrows arched. "I thought he'd be here by now."

…Irrational. That's what she was now, expecting everyone to have known what happened with some sort of psychic link.

She opened her mouth, slowly, as if her mouth was clogged with sweets. "My father is dead," Lilit said in Armenian, unable to soften the words.

Aram rocked a bit on the heels of his feet, an uncommonly emotional reaction. Her uncle took surprises with a dry look, and smiled once a decade.

But he loved his brother, she knew that much.

"Serves him right," he said, voice far too husky for the words to be honest. "All of those missions and plans."

He spun around and moved to the bow of the ship, hand at his forehead.

Lilit watched him go. It was unbelievable, for a man to completely ignore his grieving niece like this. Not even a word of comfort.

Then again, her family wasn't very fond of societal standards.

* * *

><p>She had hoped Nene would be asleep. It was excuse for Lilit to hold off any reveals for the morning. Her grandmother was elderly, it wasn't too much of a stretch, after all.<p>

But Lilit had barely stepped three feet into the upper quarters of the house before a loud voice creaked from the old woman's room.

"I know you're alone, Lilit. Your father makes much more noise when he enters the house."

Lilit walked into the bedroom, back perfectly straight, face a picture of calm. Nene looked her over with a cool expression.

"Come here, my girl."

"He's dead," The words echoed through the dimly lit rooms, cold and simple. She felt a hot flame roar up from nowhere, and she stood as if ready for a fight, eyes ablaze, feet apart. Nene's comment had been too innocent- like Zaven would be returning home in just a few moments, arms full of books and expression apologetic.

"I know." Nene blinked at her, and she was just too calm- the complete opposite of Lilit, who had been flying through so many emotions tonight that she felt sick to her stomach.

"I helped kill him."

"If you think that means I don't want to talk to you, Lilit, then you are not as clever as I thought you were."

Lilit didn't move, a perfect statue in the moonlight. She'd accept stupid. Stupid was better than being held in her grandmother's arms as if she had no blame, did nothing wrong.

Nene sighed. "At least let me see your hands, my dear girl."

And suddenly, Lilit snapped. "So you can see the blood of your son? My father? Or perhaps you just want to pretend that everything's alright, that I'm not a coward and a murderer. Everything's alright now, because you can do your little hands check!"

"You can call yourself a murderer, Lilit, whenever you'd like. But you," she stared her dead in the eye, expression just as fierce, "are no coward."

"I ran," Lilit said, desperate to keep up her self loathing, wanting more than anything for her grandmother to finally turn away in disgust.

"You survived."

Survival. That was all she was good for, assuring that her sorry skin managed to get through fight after fight, that a monster could live to see another day. She sat down on the bed, hard, raising up her knees. "He sacrificed himself. For the revolution, the Leviathan… and I destroyed anything in his path. Let him go through with it. I could have stopped him," she sobbed, wondering where the tears came from, "I really could have."

"And what good would that have done?"

"He'd be here. Home."

"And you'd both be dead, most likely."

She turned towards Nene, slowly.

"And your friends. Every face you've seen in this city, the dozens you've never seen on that boy's ship. They all lived today because you, Lilit, decided that your father's live wasn't worth more then the lives of thousands. And that young woman is now too busy feeling sorry for herself to actually _listen_."

Lilit bit her lip, turning to Nene in an attempt to give her grandmother her full attention.

"I lost a son tonight," she said simply. "A son, who was well aware of what he was doing, and warned me before hand."

Her granddaughter started, rising from the bed.

"He _what_?"

"Sit down, girl. Yes, he told me," she continued, as Lilit drifted down like a leaf battered by the wind, feeling suddenly exhausted. "Thought it might be his only chance to take down the tower. He didn't tell you, because he was sure you'd try to stop him somehow, that you were too young to understand. Apparently, he was wrong."

The world felt like it was shrinking and expanding over and over in the course of a minute. Lilit was too dumbfounded to comment.

"If you feel that you're at blame for his death, then I am as well."

She felt much younger than her almost 18 years, at that moment, young enough to allow herself to slump over and curl up next to her grandmother like she did when she was young, and let her mind convince itself that she was still a little girl. Back when she would sulk around the house after her mother and father went on a trip and she only had Nene to talk to.

But even as she lay there, long after Nene had fallen asleep as if there was nothing wrong with her almost fully grown granddaughter staying next to her like a child plagued with nightmares, miserable thoughts began to brew in the back of her mind.

Nene would only be able to live to be so old… and then what?

* * *

><p>A still house, an empty bedroom, a quiet study. Lilit could see the gap her father left in the smallest things. A chair left pushed in at breakfast. A dinner spent in Nene's bedroom, just for two.<p>

One evening, after she lost count of how many days had gone by since the battle, she searched out his key, and locked his bedroom in.

She missed him more then she ever missed her mother- a thought that made her horribly guilty, but she had been younger when her mother was killed. She had been a different person, then.

And the years without his wife had brought Zaven closer to his mother and daughter. Making these days hurt even worse.

Sometimes she just sat around the house in silence. She would be still and silent in the kitchen, the sitting room, the hallway outside his room. Trying to hear his laugh one more time, like it was a pressed flower, waiting to be rediscovered.

She still washed his favorite teacup, though she didn't dare use it.

She didn't think it was possible, for her heart to be so broken.

* * *

><p>Lilit couldn't remember the last time she left the house with her hair loose. She was wearing her full veil today, the one that only showed her eyes, and she saw no point in putting the effort into plaiting her hair.<p>

Today, she just wanted to be anonymous. She didn't want to be Lilit, Daughter of Zaven, forced to drown in hundreds of apologies and inquiries about the funeral. She hadn't wandered like this since Dylan and Alek had been here, several weeks ago. She found herself thinking about those two an awful lot these days. It had been nice, to spend time with people her own age.

The committee had changed now. Taking over the government took a lot of effort, and there were no need for the little revolutionary schemes Lilit was so good at. Without her father taking control, she was a gear that didn't fit- a young lady, with no parents, no future, and no reason to be there.

Nene told her she was being over dramatic, that the committee owed everything to her. She also said that she was the most important woman in all of Istanbul, at the moment. But Lilit didn't feel important. Didn't feel much like anything, really.

It was a chill day, the autumn wind becoming more and more apparent as the weeks passed. Her city was struggling to find its feet again, with no one really knowing how things would end up. And yet, the merchants were out, a constant factor in her life. She caught a jewelry stand in the corner of her eyes, and for a brief moment saw Alek, his cared for, privileged hands examining a bracelet.

… She was starting to miss _Alek_. She really had lost her mind. Lilit sighed, taking in the sights of the city.

She walked for hours, just staring with her wide brown eyes at a city that was metamorphosing quickly before her. She was unnoticeable, a hooded figure with a hidden, solemn expression. No one special enough to point out during this chaos. She was certainly not the girl who had a hand in everything.

The three of them were rather unnoticeable, weren't they? Well, not strictly true- Dylan certainly turned a lot of female heads when they wandered, and, unnoticed by the prince but certainly saw by his companion, Alek did have some admirers as well.

But you didn't look at them and see a hidden Clanker prince, a young women masquerading as a brilliant solider, and revolutionary who had taken a city, did you? They looked like… children.

A war fought with children. That's what this was turning out to be, wasn't it? Lilit leaned against a railing, cradling her cheek in her hand. The war was laid out in her mind's eye- a mental chessboard, the pieces too fuzzy to see.

Could the three of them really change that much?

She sighed loudly, putting both of her hands on her face now. She didn't know how this war would end- perhaps with the three of them laid across a battlefield. Or maybe- their action here, taking Istanbul, would shift the whole war of course. And she believed the two of them completely capable to keep up that shifting, to keep trying to save the world.

Her father would approve. Always said that children were underestimated. He had let her behind with complete trust, despite her age. But would it have been so hard for him to leave some sort of guidance for her?

It was up to her to figure out what to do. Take the city into her own hands and guide it to peace.

A sudden clarity washed over her, and she dropped her hands from her face.

Moping didn't suit her, Nene was right. The Committee Of Unity And Progress needed her, didn't they?

Who was to say that an eighteen-year-old girl couldn't help rule a government? Everything was new, wasn't it? And they better remember who got them control in the first place.

She couldn't be 'no one'. Related to three of the city's greatest revolutionaries- she was unstoppable.

Even though two of them were dead.

Even though Nene was next, she knew it.

Even though, deep down, she was scared…

It was time for Lilit, daughter of Zaven, to take charge. No matter the cost.


End file.
